


Off-Script

by Fuhadeza



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Post-Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-13 23:25:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16901784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fuhadeza/pseuds/Fuhadeza
Summary: Every time Adora sees Catra in the months that follow, it’s like standing on a stage.Like every play, theirs has an intermission. In another world, it might be the moment when the masks come off and the actors remember that, at the end of the day, they are merely friends.In this world, it is the moment Adora remembers the exact opposite.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> whoops
> 
> my, uh, my fingers slipped
> 
> *checks character count*
> 
> 13,601 times

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blimey but there are a lot of possible angst-related tags, huh? I don't actually _like_ angst that much. I tried to minimise the angst. As you'll see, "minimal angst" for this ship is not saying much. (I shudder to think what someone who does like angst would make of it. :p)
> 
> I don't mean for this to be an exhaustive character arc. There are all sorts of scenes that ought to happen in between these chapters. Instead, I want this to represent the major notes that I think/hope the show will hit in future seasons.
> 
> Finally, this fic is mostly done, but the bits that still need writing are mostly in chapter 2, so that might take a bit - but after that it'll be smooth sailing. Enjoy!

Every time Adora sees Catra in the months that follow, it’s like standing on a stage.

The backdrop doesn’t matter. They act on the decks of Horde warships, in narrow mountain passes, above cliffs backed by roaring, foaming waterfalls—the backdrop changes, but the script remains the same. They perform hostility to an audience of their friends and followers, and it’s like an endless game of tug-of-war, carefully choreographed such that no one ever wins.

Like every play, theirs has an intermission. It comes in the moment of calm that finds its way into every skirmish, when the combatants come face to face and, for a few brief seconds, find the idea of continuing the fight too tiring to bear. And like every intermission, these are the moments of sober reality, the previews of what awaits after the second act of the fiction concludes. In another world, they might be the moments when the masks come off and the actors remember that, at the end of the day, they are merely friends.

In this world, they are the moments Adora remembers the exact opposite.

This time it is an alpine meadow. An unlikely place for a battle, and what they’re engaged in isn’t a battle, really—there’s just the two of them, and Adora thinks the coincidence a genuine one. She’d wanted to clear her mind under the pretext of scouting ahead, and by the lack of Horde soldiers descending on her, she thinks Catra must have had similar motives. But they’ve found each other, and that means they must go through the motions.

The backdrop doesn’t matter. The script remains the same:

*

‘I’m not letting you go because—’

‘You like me?' Suddenly Adora's had enough. Months of taunts have soured their shared childhood memories, and all she wants is for Catra to _stop_. To hate her normally, the way the rest of the Horde hates her. ‘Yeah, you said. I _get it_. You don’t have to keep reminding me how much you hate me. Believe me. Message received.’

Catra freezes. It’s like she’s been following that same script and now that Adora’s deviated from it she needs time to think. ‘Hate you?' She’s quieter, her voice and her body both: her tail has stilled and she crosses her arms in front of her, claws tucked away. ‘Is that what you think I’ve been telling you?’

‘Obviously!’

‘I thought—wow.’ Catra laughs, hollow, and the sound sends a shiver of regret through Adora. ‘You really _don’t_ have any faith in me, huh? You think I could hate you after… everything?’

Adora takes a step back, stumbles over a tree root, finds her balance. ‘But you turned on me.’

‘No! I didn’t!’ Catra matches her step for step, and it occurs to Adora, belatedly, that she might want to bring her sword back up, but the look on Catra’s face isn’t angry: it’s frustrated. ‘You turned on _me_. Just try _for once_ to look past the neat little narrative you’ve got going on.’ Another step closer. Adora can see Catra’s ears twitching in agitation. ‘You think you’re a hero. Whatever. Maybe you’re right. That doesn’t change the fact that _you_ left _me_. You betrayed me first. Everything I’ve done? That was after.’ Catra pauses for a second, out of breath. Then she throws her arms up, and Adora notes that her claws are retracted. ‘I don’t know why I bother. If it hasn’t got through your thick skull any of the other times I’ve tried to explain this to you, why now?’

Adora plants her sword in the ground in front of her. It’s reassuring. ‘I had to do it, Catra. Why can’t you understand that? My friends—’

‘You’re not _listening_. Your friends don’t matter.’ And that’s it, Adora thinks, nothing but the same old Catra. She draws a breath, but before she can rise in righteous defence of the rebellion, Catra cuts her off. ‘Don’t give me that look. _My_ friends don’t matter either. Don’t you get it? It was _never_ about the Horde or the rebellion. They. Don’t. _Matter_.’ Catra jumps up, landing with one foot on the crossguard either side of the sword’s hilt. She balances, impossibly, and it’s closer than Adora has been to her in months, and the urge to touch her, to smooth the anguish away, is suddenly overwhelming. ‘It was about you’—Catra’s right hand ghosts out, one claw tracing a line down Adora’s cheek—‘and me.’ Then she’s gone again, spinning through the air, and when she comes back down the distance between them is restored. Catra looks tired. ‘I’d have understood you leaving. What I could _never_ understand is why you had to leave without doing right by me first.’

There are a dozen arguments that spring to Adora’s lips, but all of them are about what happened _next_. She’s never thought of it like that before: everything she’s done, everything she’s seen since leaving the Horde has justified her decision. Back at the beginning, though—what had she had to go on? Day-old friendships? ‘You’re right,’ she finds herself saying, and the expression of surprise on Catra’s face nearly makes her laugh. ‘I’m not excusing everything you’ve done since then. That’s on you.’ Her voice has hardened a little, as if to compensate for that brief flash of mirth. ‘And it was still the right choice. To leave. But I admit… I admit I could have handled it better.’

Catra’s mouth tightens. ‘Well. It’s more than I expected.’

 _But less than I wanted_. She doesn’t have to say it—Adora can read it in the tension on her face. ‘Now what?’

Catra blinks. ‘Now I get back to letting you go.’ Her smile is taunting again, and Adora can all but feel the moment slipping from her grasp. ‘That’s what we are, right? Enemies. And enemies don’t like each other.’

She turns to go, and Adora stands still a second more, a debate raging fiercely inside her. She’d gotten over Catra. Their friendship has become something noble in her mind—something she’d given up for the greater good. Wouldn’t it be easier if it stayed that way?

‘Wait,’ Adora says, because _easy_ was rarely _right_. She breathes a sigh of relief as Catra stops, half-turns around. ‘Why do you insist on saying you don’t like me?’

It’s a matter of chance, really. Adora has asked the other question— _Why_ did _you let me go, then?_ —before, more than once. Catra has always avoided that question. It's never occurred to Adora to wonder why—never occurred to her to try and give Catra a question she _can_ answer. But this time the conversation has gone differently, and she asks the question that pops into her head first, and it makes all the difference.

‘Adora.’ There's a fragility to the moment, as if they've both been transported to an earlier, easier time, and the smallest misstep could send them right back. ‘I’m not letting you go because I _like_ you.’

And here's the thing. Catra has said the exact same words half a dozen times, but never in that tone, never with her tail twitching reflexively between them, halfway to Adora's hand. And Adora remembers other times, harsh words entirely at odds with the actions accompanying them: she remembers Catra's hands on her back, the familiar caress of her tail light against Adora's wrist. It takes two things for Adora to understand, soft words and soft actions both, and in that moment, finally, they coincide.

Adora’s mouth is dry. She wouldn’t have known how to respond in the best of circumstances, and these were anything but. ‘You mean… ?’

‘Don’t make me say it, Adora.’

She swallows, nods. ‘But, I never, I mean—how did you—’

‘You want proof?’ Catra smirks. ‘Have I _ever_ let anyone else touch my tail? Or my ears?’

‘I always thought… I thought we were friends.’

‘Yeah. Exactly. We loved each other when we were kids, Adora.’ She shrugs. ‘And no one ever told me we were supposed to stop.’

Adora’s heart is beating so hard she wonders if Catra can hear it. ‘This… this changes things,’ she says, because it _had_ to change something, or else what was the point? ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t know—’

It’s the wrong thing to say. Catra’s expression slams shut. ‘Don’t you dare tell me you didn’t know. If you really think that, you’re even more naïve than I thought. Words don’t change anything, Adora. No matter now much you want them to.’

Adora watches her go in silence. She should feel angry, or distraught, or betrayed. Those would be the right emotions, she thinks.

Instead she feels relieved. She’s standing in the middle of a meadow, and for the first time in months it doesn’t feel like the painted façade of a theatre stage. For the first time in months, she and Catra have spoken on their own terms and no one else’s.

And despite everything that’s happened, that fact feels worth acknowledging.

*

‘I have a question.’

The three of them are in Glimmer’s room, draped over various pieces of furniture. It’s the sort of evening that follows only the most tiring days: bereft of all but the most essential physical activity and dedicated to the sheer act of laziness.

And, in Adora’s case, to emotional turmoil.

Glimmer teleports herself three feet to the left and pours herself a glass of water. ‘Is it a tough question?’

‘Maybe. It’s about feelings.’

Across the room, Bow perks up. ‘Those are the best kinds!’

Glimmer’s back in bed, glass balanced carefully between two fingers, and Adora contemplates the vast expanse of floor separating her from that same jug of water. ‘I was wondering,’ she says, ‘if you—if you do something to hurt a friend, and afterwards she does a bunch of bad stuff, does it make sense to feel guilty about that thing you did?’ Glimmer gives her a suspicious look. ‘I was thinking about Entrapta,’ Adora adds hastily.

‘It’s not your fault she was captured,’ Glimmer says.

‘Yeah. Yeah, I know. But still.’

‘I say yes,’ Bow volunteers. ‘If I steal Glimmer’s dessert, and she gets so mad that she makes everyone else give her some of theirs, that doesn’t make what I did right. It just means that now I owe _her_ pie, and she owes _everyone else_ pie.’

Glimmer groans. ‘I was _nine_.’

‘Never too young to learn about sharing!’

‘I wish someone had told the Horde that,’ Adora mutters.

‘Not big on either sharing _or_ caring, huh?’ Bow is looking at her sympathetically.

‘Just about the only thing I ever got to share was a bunk bed,’ Adora says, and it hurts to remember a time when that had been _enough_. ‘Feelings were never really on the curriculum.’

Bow sits bolt upright. ‘Glimmer!’ he says in a stage whisper. ‘Do you think she knows about _love_?’

‘I don’t know,’ Glimmer replies. She leans forwards, lips pursed, pretending to examine Adora. ‘I’d just sort of _assumed_ , but you never know…'

Adora tries to brandish her pillow at both of them at once. ‘I know about love! I had friends. We weren’t machines, you know.’ Then she bites her lip and immediately undermines herself: ‘How do you know if you’re in love with someone?’

Bow’s eyes widen. ‘ _Gasp_. Adora! Are you in love with someone? No, wait, is someone in love with you? Is it Mermista?’

‘Don’t be silly,’ Glimmer says. ‘If Mermista is in love with anyone, it’s She-Ra.’

Bow nods as if that makes perfect sense. ‘You’re right. Is it Perfuma, then? Or Glimmer? Oh, wait _, is it me?_ ’

‘Stop!’ Adora says, laughing. ‘To my knowledge, no one’s in love with me.’ And then she pauses, because for a moment she’d almost forgotten that was a lie. (Is that right? Is Catra _in love_ with her? That doesn’t sound right—too simple, somehow. But then, that’s why Adora is having this conversation.) ‘And I’m not in love with anyone, either. I just… I had to work this stuff out for myself, you know? It’s… nice, having friends I can talk to about it. Friends I love,’ she adds. ‘See? I know about love.’

Bow finally stirs himself, getting out of his chair and making himself comfortable next to Adora. ‘That’s what I’m talking about!’ he says as Glimmer joins them in a puff of sparkles, and it seems absurd to Adora that, just a few months ago, she’d thought that Glimmer’s powers were something dark and dangerous. Now they’re just another part of her, the way Catra’s feline mannerisms had always been a part of _her_ , and—

Adora stiffens imperceptibly. ‘So,’ she says, and her heart beats a little faster, and she hopes her friends don’t notice. ‘Have you two ever been in love?’

‘No,’ Glimmer says, just as Bow says, ‘All the time,’ and Adora can’t help but laugh.

‘All the time?’

‘Yes.’

‘Bow hasn’t learned to tell the difference between having a crush and being in love,’ Glimmer says, but she’s smiling fondly and Bow grins back.

‘Maybe you haven’t learned to tell the difference going the other way!’

Glimmer snorts. ‘That’s fair.’ She leans into Adora’s shoulder. ‘I guess it just hasn’t been a priority for me. With the war and everything.’

‘We went to prom when there was a war,’ Bow says.

Glimmer goes pink. ‘That was different. It was _tradition_. And entirely unromantic, in the end.’

Adora brings her knees up to her chest. Her mind shies away from her memories of the prom, and she’s glad when Bow changes the subject.

‘What we’ve really learned is that neither of us know how to tell if you’re in love, either.’ He brightens. ‘At least, not yet! That’s the fun part, right? Getting there. But,’ he adds, ‘if you like, I can share some dad wisdom. If anyone knows, it’s them. Trust me.’ He drops back into the stage whisper: ‘ _like fathers like son_.’

‘Go on, then,’ Glimmer says.

Bow clears his throat. ‘Like my dads always say—love isn’t about _thinking_ , it’s about _feeling_. The more you think, the more confused you’ll be. Trust your instincts—even when they’re confusing!’

The three of them are quiet for a few seconds. ‘Well, that’s not very useful, is it?’ Glimmer says.

Bow is saying something in response, but Adora can’t make out the words. She closes her eyes and thinks. Somewhere, deep inside, a plan is forming. It’s not a sensible plan. It’s a dangerous plan, even. But slowly, tentatively, it begins to seem like the right plan.

 _Trust your instincts_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, we have a confession (of sorts) right off the bat. That might seem odd, but I think it will make sense in hindsight. The dynamic here is something I'd really like season two to address - the tension between Adora being obviously in the right as far as the Horde is concerned, and the fact that she _did_ nevertheless abandon Catra. One doesn't cancel out the other, you know?
> 
> Let me know what you thought! It's always a bit tricky writing characters you haven't written before, and I appreciate any and all comments. :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Adora makes an unexpected gesture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is, uh, getting slightly out of hand.

This time it’s a beach.

Here’s how it goes: the moment Adora—She-Ra—appears, Catra goes straight for her. She always does, and normally Adora would have heeded the lesson she’d learnt at the battle of Bright Moon, but this time she _wants_ to be distracted, wants to lead Catra away from the fight, through the forest, down to the beach. It’s a calculated risk, but Adora has faith in her friends. They’ll manage without her.

By the time Catra catches up to her, Adora has transformed back into her normal self. She’s sitting on a rock, sword across her knees, watching the waves. They’re too far from the battle for any sound to reach them, and the emptiness is filled instead with the hiss of breaking waves and the calls of gulls.

It’s peaceful. That’s the trick, Adora thinks: peace. Every time they’ve spoken recently, it’s been in the eyes of storms. She can only hope it works this time, too.

Catra’s taking her time coming down the beach. _Sauntering_ is the word that pops into Adora’s head, and Catra’s tail flicking back and forth just adds to the impression. Eventually she comes to a stop a few paces away from the rock.

‘Adora.’ Catra lingers over the vowels. That’s a good sign. _Taunting_ isn’t yet _aggression_. ‘A romantic getaway? You shouldn’t have.’

The sun is a hand’s width above the horizon and the shining sea transmits its light in beautiful, pearlescent streaks. It _is_ romantic, in a wild kind of way.

Adora fidgets. ‘I wanted to talk to you.’

‘Uh-huh. You sure that’s such a good idea?’ Catra stalks off to the left, circling the rock. Adora resists the urge to turn around as Catra disappears from her field of view. ‘You’re just you,’ Catra’s voice comes from behind her, ‘and if I can go toe-to-toe with _She-Ra_ , you better believe I can beat Adora in a fight.’

‘Funny,’ Adora says, ‘you never could beat me when we used to spar.’

Catra reappears to her right. ‘Things—have— _changed_ ,’ she hisses. ‘You wanna try me?’

‘You’re not going to hurt me, Catra.’

‘Who said anything about hurting you?’ For a moment, Adora is off-balance, but then Catra continues: ‘We both know I’ve always been faster than you. I bet I could get that sword off you before you got two words into your little incantation.’

Adora bites down on her lip to keep herself from laughing. _If only she knew_. ‘It’s not an incantation.’

‘Do I look like I care?’

'I've been thinking about what you said.’ Adora wants this conversation to go somewhere specific, and following the trail of Catra’s taunts isn’t going to get here there. ‘Last time we spoke.’

Catra examines her nails in a caricature of boredom. 'I told you. It doesn't change anything.'

'No, I mean... The other stuff you said. It wasn't... it wasn't all wrong.'

'Is it that hard to tell me I was right?' Catra looks up, wary. 'Go on. I'm listening.'

'I _do_ think of myself a hero,’ Adora says. ‘I tried not to, but it sort of... crept in. The way everyone treats me, it's hard not to, you know?'

'No.’ Catra’s expression is hard as diamond, the sun’s reflection in her eyes as glittering. ‘I don't.'

Adora winces. There’s no choice, though, but to forge ahead. 'And I wouldn't mind, if they thought I was a hero the way that Glimmer is. Because of everything she’s done her entire life. But they don't.’ Catra’s eyes track her as she places one hand on the pommel of her sword. ‘It's all about this thing. Just like it wasn’t about _me_ when Shadow Weaver would favour me. The moment I became She-Ra... You were right, Catra. You could only be the sidekick. And that wasn't fair to you. I'm sorry.'

'Cute. You planning to do anything about it?'

'Yes.’ Adora takes a deep breath. ‘I used to think of it as my reward for hard work. But Shadow Weaver would have favoured me regardless. It’s time I admitted that. And the sword—’ She laughs. ‘Well, that was sheer luck. I can’t do anything about the first thing, but…’ She stands up, raises her sword. She can see Catra’s eyes narrow as she points the blade at her, and she holds that gaze as slowly, carefully, she reverses her grip. ‘Here. Take it.’

It’s a quiet moment. Catra is looking at her like they’re children again and she’s having trouble wrapping her head around some prank. 'What?'

The sword is heavy and her grip awkward. 'I want you to have it.’

'But... _Why?_ ' Catra takes a step back, as if the sword were still pointed at her business-end-first. Her expression is so uncertain, Adora has a sudden epiphany: they’ve reached a point where the only gestures that register are the unexpected ones. The ease of their friendship is gone. The only way to correct the course of their animosity is to shock each other out of it. It’s a thought that firms her own doubts. _This is the right thing to do_.

‘If I’m going to be a hero, I can do it on my own terms. I don’t need this sword to turn me into one.’

'And you’re just _giving up_ your most powerful weapon? Adora, are you _insane_?'

‘You’re on the other side, remember?’ Adora smiles. ‘It’s nice to know you care, but shouldn’t you be jumping at this opportunity?’

Catra’s hands form fists. ‘I _don’t_ care. This is a trick. You’re not stupid enough to actually do it.’

‘It’s not a trick. The rebellion can win without She-Ra. This is a gamble, that’s all.’ Her arm is starting to tremble. ‘Do you want this or not? It’s heavier than it looks.’

Catra crosses the distance between them. She accepts the sword with one hand, but the other is on Adora’s wrist, preventing her from letting go. The strain on Adora’s muscles fades a little as she shares the weight with Catra. ‘You think I’m going to join the rebellion. That’s it, right? That’s the gamble. Give up the sword. Potentially undermine the Horde from the inside. Am I on the right track here?’

Adora takes one step closer and brings the sword between them, point down, their hands clasped around the hilt. ‘What I think,’ she said carefully, ‘is that if there’s a route to that outcome, it starts here.’

‘There isn’t,’ Catra snaps, and the claws of her right hand dig into Adora’s left—uncomfortably but not, she thinks, consciously. ‘It’s too late.’

Adora steps back, fast enough that it startles Catra into letting go of her wrist, and suddenly she’s free of the sword. She runs her fingers over the marks Catra’s claws have left, and she’s not sure if she’s trying to memorise them or smooth them away. ‘Then it won’t be an issue for you to take the sword.’

Catra hefts the blade, glancing from it to Adora as if trying to decide which was more dangerous. Her expression is unreadable.

‘One thing, Catra.’

‘Right. Of course. Here come the conditions.’

‘If you say so.’ Adora takes a moment to collect herself. ‘I’m not giving the sword to the Horde. I’m giving it to _you_.’

Catra snorts. ‘It’s the same thing.’

‘No, it _isn’t_. You’re not the Horde. And I’m not the rebellion. If you ever—’ Here Adora’s voice catches, and she clears her throat and tries again. ‘If you ever make your way to Bright Moon, it doesn’t have to be about joining the rebellion. You could just join me.’

‘And your new best friends would take that lying down, would they?’

‘My new best friends wouldn’t get between me and my old best friend. That’s why they’re friends.’

‘And you really _believe_ that?’ Catra’s laugh has an uncertain edge to it. ‘They’d just accept me?’

‘I do.’ Adora takes a deep breath. She does believe it, but that’s a choice she’s making, and she tries to keep the doubt off her face.

‘Like it matters. I’m not you. I’m not going to leave.’

‘The Horde is evil, Catra—’

‘Yeah, we’ve _been through this_ —’

‘—and if they win this war it would be _catastrophic_ ,’ Adora says, louder. ‘If the rebellion wins, it’ll be better for everyone. Or nearly everyone.’ She pauses. ‘How’s Kyle doing?’

Catra stares at her. ‘That is _low_ , Adora,’ she mutters. ‘Even for you. Even for _me_!’

For a moment, Adora regrets giving the sword away—is actively pissing Catra off _really_ the right strategy?—but she’s come this far and Catra hasn’t taken a swing at her yet. ‘It’s not my fault that’s the only way to get through to you these days,’ she snaps.

Catra actually takes half a step back, anger ceding to surprise, but she recovers quickly. ‘By threatening the people you grew up with?’

‘I’m not threatening anyone! I’m saying that neither the Horde nor the rebellion care what happens to them. You know who _does?_ I do! You do! We know how manipulative the Horde is. We know that a lot of their people aren’t bad people. Who do you think is gonna do something about it?’

‘And where were you when _I_ was saying that? We were so close, Adora! Shadow Weaver’s gone. The two of us could have dealt with Hordak.’ Catra advances, regaining that half-step and then some. ‘ _We could have done something about it_.’

Adora doesn’t back down. ‘I was _helping people_. People outside the—’

‘Yeah, you chose them over your family, chose them over _me_ —’

‘Only because you wouldn’t let me choose _both_ ,’ Adora yells, and she hadn’t even noticed how close they’d gotten to one another, but now those scant few inches are full of the thick silence that follows her outburst.

Catra’s still holding the sword, angled away from Adora in a way that’s not actively threatening but isn’t exactly comforting, either. She leans in until her nose is nearly touching Adora’s, and her whisper is harsher than her raised voice ever was. ‘Sometimes you can’t have both. Sometimes you have to _choose_.’

Adora closes her eyes. She doesn’t have it in her to watch Catra walk away from her again. The tip of the sword makes a harsh noise where Catra drags it through the sand.

But at least she takes it with her.

*

Adora already feels wrung out by the time they return to Bright Moon, and then she has to lie through the inevitable interrogation—what happened, where’s the sword, are you _sure_ the Horde can’t make use of it?—and by the time she climbs up and falls face-first into bed she feels like a shirt that’s been scrubbed thread-bare.

Glimmer’s bed, that is, and she groans into the bedcovers. She should have gone straight to her own room, the conversation could have waited until morning—but no. It was best done now. Even a night’s delay might make it seem like she’d had something to hide, and though she _does_ , strictly speaking, have something to hide, she doesn’t intend to hide it from her friends.

Adora sits up. ‘I have to tell you something.’

Bow and Glimmer exchange looks. They’re standing at the base of the floating contraption that is Glimmer’s bed. Then Glimmer takes Bow’s hand and teleports them both up and they sit opposite Adora, the three of them making a rough triangle. That’s reassuring: three equal points, rather than the two of them on one side and her on the other.

‘Are you okay?’ Bow asks.

‘It’s okay if you’re not, what with being ambushed and losing your prized possession,’ Glimmer adds, not entirely helpfully.

‘About that.’

‘What?’

‘I wasn’t ambushed. No one stole the sword.’

That gives Glimmer pause. ‘Then where is it?’

Adora takes a deep breath. ‘I gave it to Catra.’

The silence that follows is delicate.

‘Just to clarify,’ Bow says eventually. ‘Willingly?’

Adora nods.

‘Okay,’ Glimmer says, and her voice is full of confusion and concern, ‘Why?’

There are so many ways Adora could answer that question, but it’s the one question she was utterly certain they’d ask, and she has an answer ready. ‘Because I think it’s the only way I can get her back.’

‘And you want to get her back?’ she says quietly.

Adora closes her eyes, brings her knees up to her chest. That’s the thing, isn’t it? Her friends are here, with her, and they’re not yelling at her— _yet_ —and she doesn’t want to sound ungrateful but she’d be deluding herself if she didn’t wish that _three_ were _four_. ‘Yes,’ she says at last, and she screws her eyes shut even tighter, but the first tears escape regardless.

Glimmer’s arms are around her in an instant. Adora opens her eyes, lets herself unfold, and she’s never quite appreciated the phrase _to cry on someone’s shoulder_ before, but there’s a first time for everything. ‘I’m sorry,’ she says, once her tears have mostly dried. ‘I just _miss_ her and it’s been… it’s been so hard pretending I don’t.’

‘It’s okay,’ Glimmer whispers soothingly. ‘You can talk to us. You know that, right?’

‘Yeah,’ Bow adds, coming up beside Adora and taking her hands in his. ‘You’re our friend and we care about you, whether you’re She-Ra or Adora. The sword doesn’t matter.’

‘Absolutely.’ Glimmer hesitates. ‘Although I can’t _guarantee_ my mother will be as, er, understanding.’

Adora laughs, the sound muffled against Glimmer’s arm. ‘Why do you think I lied to her?’

‘But,’ Glimmer adds, ‘as your friend, I have to ask. Are you sure about this?’

Adora pulls back. ‘What do you mean?’

‘She tried to kill you, Adora.’

Adora glances at Bow. ‘What do you think?’

‘I hate to say it, but Glimmer’s right.’ Bow sighs. ‘You know me, I _want_ to believe the best of everyone, but she doesn’t make it easy, you know?’

This, too, isn’t unexpected. ‘I’m not delusional,’ Adora says. ‘If I really thought Catra wanted me dead…’ She grimaces. ‘Well, it would break my heart, but I’d get over it.’

‘You don’t think she wants you dead?’ Bow says.

Adora appreciates how supportive they’re being, she really does, but the doubt in his voice is hard to miss. ‘She’s passed up far too many opportunities for that to be true.’

‘And there’s another thing,’ Glimmer says. ‘Of _course_ I recognise that you’re more than She-Ra, but there were so many other things the sword could do—so many advantages—’

‘Glimmer,’ Bow says warningly.

Adora waves him off. ‘No, it’s okay. I’d rather hear this now than later.’

Glimmer shoots her a grateful half-smile. ‘It just feels like we’ve been making progress. We know so much more about the First Ones now, we know they used to defend the planet just like we do now—it makes the war seem so much more winnable. And the sword was our link to that.’

Adora runs her fingers through her hair. Her ponytail is half undone, but she resists the urge to fix it. Delaying the words won’t make them less true. 'I don't think that's necessarily a good thing,' she says quietly.

And now they’re both looking at her, and even Bow's expression has grown a little guarded. 'How is that not a good thing?' Glimmer asks.

'When I was stuck in the temple,' Adora says, and then she stops, licks her lips, and thinks the words through. 'And the—the First Ones entity, whatever it was. When it was telling me about the past. One of the things it said was that I had to learn to let go. Of my attachments.’ She swallows. 'That was when Catra turned up.’

There’s a subtle frown on Bow's face. 'You think it was talking about her?'

'Yes. And the thing is, I think it turned her against me. We were getting along fine, I was starting to hope that—’ Adora swallows the rest of that sentence. 'And then it was over. Catra didn’t want to kill me, she was just lashing out. Because of whatever she saw in there.’

'Sounds like it might have had a point,' Glimmer mutters. Bow is still frowning, but he doesn’t disagree.

'That's what I might have thought, except for one thing.’ Adora looks from Glimmer to Bow, meeting their eyes. 'It wasn’t _just_ talking about Catra. It was talking about you, too. Everyone I care about. It wanted me to be no one but She-Ra.’ Her hands form fists. ‘I’m not going to deny their knowledge and their technology is useful. But if that’s how they won their wars? By pretending they didn’t care about people? I want no part of that. That’s how the Horde does things.’

Bow’s expression is downright thunderous. ‘That’s not right,’ he says, and the sheer conviction in his voice brings a smile to Adora’s face. ‘Come here,’ he adds, and she lets him pull her into a hug. ‘We’ll figure it out, First Ones or no First Ones.’

Adora feels anxiety draining away. She can deal with any possible outcome, she thinks, as long as she has his support. If he, of all people, had failed to understand her reasoning—well, her self-confidence only went so far. ‘Thanks, Bow.’

‘Any time.’ He grins at her. ‘I’m about two minutes from falling asleep, though, and much as I hate to cut this conversation short…’

Adora laughs. ‘Get some sleep. I’m okay.’

Bow gives her a thumbs up. ‘Chin up. You made the right choice.’

Then he’s gone. Adora turns back to Glimmer, who is staring intently at the top-most floating step. ‘You’ve been quiet,’ Adora says. ‘What do you think?’

Glimmer chews her bottom lip. ‘I think that Catra tried to destroy my home.’

It’s the first time she’s used Catra’s name. Adora swallows past an emotion she can’t even begin to name. ‘Catra saved my life.’

Glimmer looks at her. There’s anger there. Adora feels a rush of gratitude that Glimmer has kept it at bay so long. ‘You really think that?’

‘I wouldn’t be here, right now, if it weren’t for her,’ Adora says. ‘I don’t think that, I know that. You have no idea what Horde cadet training is like. We… we kept each other kind.’

Glimmer is quiet for several seconds. ‘I didn’t know that,’ she says eventually. ‘You never talk about her.’

It’s not an accusation, but Adora feels guilty all the same. It’s true. She hardly ever talks about her past. ‘I know the distinction probably doesn’t matter much to you, but… The Horde tried to destroy your home. Not Catra.’

‘She was leading them.’

Adora forces herself to meet Glimmer’s gaze, full of equal parts anger and compassion. ‘In another world, I might have been leading them. Me being here is an accident as much as anything else.’

Glimmer closes her eyes and stares, unseeing, at the ceiling. ‘I get where you’re coming from. I do. But that doesn’t change how I feel.’

Adora’s heart is beating faster. ‘I understand. And, and I know that I might just be selfish. Maybe I want things to go back to how they were, even if that’s not possible, and maybe I was _really_ stupid and ruined things for the rebellion, but I had to _try_ , and I understand if you want to hate me, and—’

‘ _Adora_ ,’ Glimmer says, loudly. ‘Stop.’

Adora stops.

‘That’s not how it works,’ Glimmer goes on. ‘All right? I have my doubts, sure. And I’ll be honest, part of me _is_ really angry that you’d do this without talking to us about it. But I _understand_. Maybe I’m angry, but I won’t _hate_ you.’

Adora blinks. Then the relief washes over her and she throws herself at Glimmer, flinging her arms around the other girl’s neck, and Glimmer makes a garbled noise of protest and pushes her away, laughing.

‘Sorry,’ Adora says. ‘I just—I love you, and I love Bow, and I was _pretty_ sure he would see my point of view, but—’

Glimmer snorts. ‘But you were worried about me?’

‘Well. Yes.’

She rolls her eyes. ‘Love you too. Like I said, it’s my mother you have to worry about.’

Adora waves a hand. ‘Cross that bridge _if_ we get to it.’ She pauses. ‘You really won’t hate me?’

Glimmer punches her shoulder, gently. ‘I’ll prove it to you.’ She grabs a pillow and throws it at Adora. ‘Sleepover?’

Adora opens her mouth, and she’s pretty sure she’s about to start crying again, but at least now she has a shoulder _and_ a pillow. ‘Yeah,’ she says. ‘Yeah, that’d be nice.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really like the idea that, at one point, Adora gives the sword back to Catra. (At least for a bit.) I think it's neat and symmetrical, and I think we're going to have to address the weird "let go of your attachments" thing. It didn't work for the Jedi, guys, try something new for a change! I think it would also be a major step towards Adora actually acknowledging Catra's issues.
> 
> Having said that, I think that Glimmer would take it less well than she does here. But this is already way longer than I expected it to be and there was no way I was going to get caught up in a whole other _separate_ bit of angst, so I decided to go for the less dramatic option - she has reservations, but they're trumped by loyalty to her friends. I'm just mentioning it for the kudos in case it does actually happen. :D (And, yes, the ending here is meant to be, if not romantic, at least platonic-romantic. I'm a multishipper through and through. Sorry.)
> 
> I'm finding this a bit harder to write than I expected, because of how compressed the character development is. I'd love to hear what y'all thought!
> 
> (And one more thing: this is listed as four chapters, but the third will essentially be the last. The fourth is just a little epilogue. I say this now to avoid disappointment later. :))


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Catra purrs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are all so talkative! Are all new fandoms like this? Are She-Ra fans just particularly social? Whatever the case, thank you so much for all the comments! I really appreciate them. <3
> 
> Anyway, this chapter just _wouldn't end_. (I'm sorry/you're welcome!) I'm still not 100% happy with it, but I think making it any better would mean extending this fic more than I'm willing to do, haha. The main points I wanted to hit are here, anyway, and that's the important thing. Enjoy!

The click of her window unlatching isn’t particularly loud, but Adora is only half asleep and it’s loud enough. She sits up, bleary. In the few seconds it takes her brain to get up to speed the window has opened, closed, and when Adora spots the figure stalking towards her, she goes perfectly still.

‘What did you do to me?’ Catra is like a figure from a fairytale—a dark one, the kind where the demon eats the child at the end. Her eyes glow brightly in the darkness, setting off the rest of her silhouette, sleek and limber, the hilt of Adora’s sword poking up above her right shoulder. Her voice is rough and barely restrained, and the part of Adora that’s still suspended somewhere between dreams imagines wisps of flame curling around Catra’s every step.

‘How did you—’ Adora licks her lips, eyes darting around, calculating. ‘How did you get in?’

‘How do you _think_?’ Catra spits the words. ‘I know you always hated skulking around, but it works a damn sight better than rushing headfirst into every single problem.’ She laughs, hollow. ‘Tell the idiots who built this place to put some locks in. At least those might’ve slowed me down. Now,’ and her voice is like a whip, snapping Adora’s attention straight back to her, ‘ _answer the question_.’

‘Catra, I have no idea what you’re—’

‘ _Don’t lie to me_.’ Catra takes another step forward. She’s close enough that Adora can see her claws, extending and retracting, over and over. ‘This is your doing. I _know_ it is. I don’t care how you did it, but you’re going to make it stop. _Now_.’

Adora raises her hands, thinks better of it, lets them drop back into her lap. ‘I swear I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Is that right?’ Catra snarls. ‘Why don’t I jog your memory? _Voices,_ Adora. I hear voices. And I know you’re behind them because they tell me exactly the same lies you do. What did you think? That I wouldn’t figure it out? That I’d start doubting my own sanity? That I’d fall for a trick this _weak_?’

It’s too dark to see Catra’s expression. All Adora has to go on is her voice, layered with so many emotions it’s like Catra doesn’t know what to feel. To anyone else it might have seemed like pure rage. But Adora knows her better than anyone—there’s anger and betrayal and confusion, yes, but pain, too, and fear, and something almost like panic.

Adora isn’t scared. It’s so simple: Catra is lashing out because to do anything else would be to show weakness. ‘I’ll help you if I can, Catra, but you have to talk to me. _What_ voices?’

‘You know what—’

‘ _No_ ,’ Adora says, sharply. ‘I don’t. And you can either accept that and _talk to me_ or get out of my room.’

That gives Catra pause. The imagined flames vanish. For a moment Adora thinks she will choose the second option, but then Catra says, ‘I’ve been hearing them since the last time we talked.’

‘All right,’ Adora says carefully. ‘I guess it makes sense you’d blame me. What do they… what do they say?’

Another long silence. ‘She talks about my duty,’ Catra says eventually. ‘And about the past. Like I _care_ about the past,’ she adds, belligerent. ‘Is this how they got you?’

Adora ignores the provocation. ‘She?’

‘She, they, who cares? You’re ignoring the bit where there are _voices in my head_.’

And suddenly Adora _knows_. ‘This voice,’ she whispers, heart pounding, ‘has it ever tried to get you to say the words?’

Catra bares her teeth, and in a flash she’s unsheathed the sword. ‘So you _do_ know—’

‘Shut up,’ Adora snaps. ‘For _one second_ , shut up and answer the question.’

Catra blinks, several times. The shadows she’s standing in make it a disconcerting sight, the lights of her eyes flashing like beacons on a ship. ‘Yes. But I don’t know _what_ words.’

‘Yes, you do,’ Adora says, mostly to herself. She doesn’t pause to wonder, to think through what it might mean, because she needs that final confirmation, first, the external certainty to match the certainty already inside her. ‘This voice. Does it have a name?’

Stillness, perfect stillness, and then Catra takes a step forward and into a beam of moonlight. Light glances off the blade. She’s not a demon any more but a hero come to rescue Adora from her tower, or else a villain come to kidnap her. It’s an image that sears itself into Adora’s brain.

‘She calls herself Light Hope.’

Adora can’t help the noise that escapes her. It’s the release of one tension and the realisation of another: has she made a mistake? Has she doomed the rebellion and all her friends—

She stops that thought in its track. ‘Catra,’ she says, and she’s proud of how even her voice is. ‘Say the words.’

Catra glances at the sword as if surprised to find it in her hands. ‘I told you. I don’t _know_ the words.’

‘Yes, you do,’ Adora says, louder this time. ‘You’re not stupid, Catra. You know what’s going on. _Say the words._ ’

Catra swallows. ‘I don’t know.’

‘Please,’ Adora whispers.

In the end, it comes down to a compromise. Catra doesn’t say the words, but she mouths them, and Adora can make out their shape on her lips, and it’s enough—

Adora has never watched herself transform into She-Ra. She’d tried it in front of a mirror, once, but that hadn’t helped—it was as if the transformation was entirely separate from the passage of time, as if it happened in the spaces between, spaces that something as mundane as a mirror could never show.

In a way it’s disappointing. She’d expected something more. For a second the room is lit up with a flash of red light, and when it fades and she blinks away the after-images, she thinks it hasn’t worked. Catra is the same height, for one, but then the details resolve and Adora realises her clothes have changed: they’re darker, less ragged, all straight lines and swagger.

Catra is staring at the sword in her hands. Then she leaps back, and that’s when Adora knows for sure it _has_ worked. Catra has always been quick, but now she’s liquid, flowing from one spot to the next in the blink of an eye, and Adora struggles to track her movements as she circles the room, bounding from surface to surface in near-total silence.

She keeps hold of the sword the entire time. When she comes to a stop again, in the same place she’d been standing mere seconds ago, she holds it out, horizontal to the ground, and very deliberately drops it.

Even against the carpet the thud of it falling is loud enough that Adora winces and listens for footsteps. It makes her miss the moment when Catra turns back into her normal self, and it’s like all the poise and energy flows out of her at the same time: she slumps, takes a step forward, and sits heavily at the other end of the bed. Her expression is on the verge of cracking, like someone whose senses have received too much input for a single evening.

On some deep, instinctual level, Adora isn’t surprised that the sword works for Catra—it’s almost like she’d known, when she’d made the decision to give it to her. That, she finds, isn’t the unexpected part.

'I'm scared,' Catra whispers, and there it is—not the fact itself, but that Catra is willing to admit it. It's the jolt Adora needs to begin considering the hitherto unthinkable.

Still, she hesitates. ‘Of what?’

‘Of this,’ Catra gestures, and Adora isn’t sure if she’s indicating the sword or the room or the situation in general. ‘I don’t… I don’t know what it means. Weren’t _you_ scared to start with?’ The question comes out halfway between a plea and an accusation.

She shifts on the bed, slowly, until she's next to Catra, but something stops her from making that final contact. Her hands hover awkwardly between them. Too much has happened for this to be wordless any more, she thinks, and so she asks, 'Can I touch you?'

It takes longer than she expects, long enough for doubt to come knocking, but then Catra nods, quick and jerky, and Adora wraps her arms around her, just as she’s done a hundred times before, just as she'd done the day— But the specific memory eludes her, and she shakes off the past in favour of the present. Catra feels small and fragile. She’s not crying—she never cries anymore—but she’s trembling slightly, and Adora pulls her closer, lets her rest her head on Adora’s shoulder. ‘Your hair is scratchy,’ Adora says, wrinkling her nose. ‘When was the last time you brushed it?’

‘Really?’ Catra says, and her voice is a little weak, but at least she’s rising to the occasion. ‘You’re going to criticise my _hair_?’

Adora runs her fingers through Catra’s hair, gently combing out some of the worst knots. There’s far too much of it to make any real progress, but every stroke seems to calm Catra down, just as it had when they’d been younger. ‘Of course I was scared,’ Adora says after they’ve sat silent for several minutes. ‘You did incredibly well, all things considered. You should have seen me the first time. I managed all of two seconds. Then I fell over and dropped the sword.’

‘Damn. Wish I’d been there.’

‘I don’t. You’d _never_ have let me forget it.’

Catra laughs, but halfway in her voice breaks and her body goes all tense again. ‘Why are you being nice to me?’ she says, and she sounds almost panicked.

‘Hey.’ There’s an unkind part of Adora that’s wondering the same thing, but she pushes it down. A much bigger part heeds the unspoken promise that’s always defined their relationship: they _take care of each other_. ‘We’ve both hurt each other,’ she says. ‘But I’m willing to put that aside for now. We’ll—we’ll go back to being enemies later. But just for now. Let it be like old times?’

Catra lets out a breath. ‘Okay,’ she says. ‘Just for now.’

Adora traces soft circles around the base of Catra’s left ear. ‘I miss you,’ she says, without quite meaning to.

The tension bleeds out of Catra. ‘I miss you too,’ she mutters.

Adora leans in, not quite sure what she intends to do, just as Catra finally tilts her head to look at her, and for a moment they are still. She’s forgotten quite how striking Catra’s eyes are, mismatched and bright, and the tiny smile playing along Catra’s lips gives her a strange blend of vulnerability and confidence. Then the smile widens, just a little, and Catra raises an eyebrow, just a little, and Adora stops thinking. It’s like muscle memory: like her body’s been stuck mid-movement by the interference of her mind, and when she finally lowers that last mental barrier, however temporarily, the movement comes to its natural conclusion and she returns Catra’s smile, closes the gap between them, and kisses her.

Catra doesn’t hesitate for an instant, and it’s not like she’s ever had much regard for Adora’s personal space, but this is different: she tangles their limbs together, her tail raising goosebumps where it caresses Adora’s arm, and the one thought going through Adora’s head is that _this_ —Catra wrapped around her, her lips soft against Adora’s—doesn’t just feel right, it feels _normal_. She lets Catra lower her onto the bed, and every movement is gentle where it could be rough, because they’ve had plenty of aggression in their lives and this is the _other_ side of their relationship. Even when Catra deepens the kiss and her teeth graze Adora’s tongue, Adora doesn’t mind. It’s who Catra is—prickly even when she’s caring.

Catra pulls away, out of breath, and Adora finally has a moment to think, to register the pounding of her heart and the flush suffusing her cheeks. There’s disbelief on Catra’s face, and it infects Adora, too, and she bites her lip and says, ‘What are we doing?’

‘Just for now,’ Catra says, and her eyes dare Adora to argue. When no argument is forthcoming, she scoots back and makes herself comfortable, head nestled on Adora’s chest.

Adora sees the writing on the wall, reaches behind her for a pillow, and props her head up as best she can. Catra’s weight is comforting, but she knows from prior experience there’s only so long before her legs start to go numb. Catra shifts a little, though, and Adora rolls her eyes and reaches down to stroke her ears.

A few minutes later, Adora grins. ‘You’re purring.’

She expects indignation, but Catra just makes an affirmative noise. ‘Of course I am.’

Adora curves her other arm around Catra’s back, gently running her hand along her tail and then her shoulders, and the moment is sweet and silent but for the sound of Catra’s purring.

Then Catra adds, ‘I never thought I’d get to kiss you again,’ and suddenly the moment is over.

‘Wait,’ Adora says, slowly. ‘What do you mean, again?’

Catra stiffens. Then she rolls off Adora and props herself up on her elbows. She looks confused. ‘What do you mean, what do I mean?’

‘Catra, that was the first time I ever kissed you.’

‘No, it wasn’t,’ Catra says, and her voice is shot through with alarm. ‘Do you—do you not remember?’

‘Remember _what_?’

‘When we were sixteen,’ Catra says, words coming faster now, ‘the day I tried to… tried to leave. You held me in bed that night and told me everything would be okay and then I kissed you and I was so scared you were going to push me away but you kissed me back and you told me we’d always have each other’s backs and—’ Catra swallows, hard, and falls silent.

Adora is staring. It’s like being told red is blue, and she can’t even begin to comprehend what it means. ‘Catra, I’m sorry. I remember the day, obviously, but...’

‘I told you we should be careful,’ Catra whispers. ‘I thought… I thought that was why you never brought it up again.’ Her voice fades nearly to nothing.

‘Careful?’

‘So Shadow Weaver wouldn’t—’ Catra breaks off. Her expression changes utterly, confusion replaced by cold anger, and despite herself Adora flinches back. ‘Do you remember the first time we made that promise?’ Catra says, voice tight. ‘When we were kids? You found me, crying on our bed, and we promised we’d always be there for each other.’

‘No,’ Adora says, hopeless. ‘That was always a given for me, Catra, of _course_ we looked out for each other, but…’ She takes a ragged breath. ‘I don’t remember.’

Catra scrambles off the bed, her eyes darting from side to side. ‘Do you see?’

Adora sits up. Her mind is a jumble of contradictions. ‘I don’t,’ she says, and there’s an undercurrent of pleading: _make sense of this for me._

‘ _She_ did this to you. Shadow Weaver. _She took those memories away_.’ Catra’s raising her voice, each word hammering into Adora like an icy gust of wind. ‘We know she can do it. We know she’d have had _reason_ to do it. Tell me I’m wrong, Adora. Tell me I’m wrong!’

Adora opens her mouth to say something, anything, but all that comes out is, 'Please be quiet. Someone will hear.’

 _'Be quiet?'_ Catra hisses, but at least she’s obeying. 'That's all you have to say? Shadow Weaver messed with your mind. She stole your _best_ _friend_ right out of your brain and you’re telling me to be quiet?' She slumps back into a chair—the one Bow usually sits in, Adora notes absently, and it’s so strange to think of him juxtaposed with Catra. 'You don’t even believe me, do you? Admit it!'

Adora wants to do just that, wants to find a reason Catra would benefit from so brazen a lie, but she knows it for a lost cause. Being honest with herself—and if ever there was a time for honesty, this is it—what Catra is saying makes sense, in that simple, satisfying way of a dozen minor puzzles being solved all at once.

'I believe you,' she says. There’ll be a reckoning to come in exchange for those words, a facing down of all that’s been stolen from her. For now, though, she puts that thought aside. Adora can feel the contours of the wedge Shadow Weaver has driven between them, and her first, greatest revenge will be to destroy that wedge once and for all. 'I believe you,' she repeats, louder.

Catra narrows her eyes. ‘Really.’

‘Yes.’ Each word comes out a little stronger. Adora stands up, and Catra follows suit a second later, as if unwilling to cede even so small an advantage as a foot or two of height. They meet in the middle of the room and Adora understands that _this_ is the moment. She has all the pieces now, even if the memories themselves are lost, and that means she has no more excuses. They’re on equal footing. Catra’s past transgressions are put aside, to be dealt with if and when they make it through this moment. Adora doesn’t _know_ that Catra is thinking along the same lines, but if she’s not, it won’t make a difference.

Adora has to try. So she takes that last half-step, pulls Catra into an embrace, and says, ‘I love you.’ Catra flinches in her arms, but she doesn’t try to break away, and Adora pulls her even closer. ‘And I don’t even begin to know _how_ , exactly, but you’re right. We’ve loved each other all our lives, and _we_ get to decide what that means. No one but me gets to tell me I’m supposed to stop.’

‘Shadow Weaver—’

‘Shadow Weaver _failed_.’ Adora runs her hands through Catra’s hair, gently tilting her head until they’re eye-to-eye. ‘This whole time, ever since I left, I’ve been so confused. Every time I saw you I’d feel… _happy_. And then I’d remember things were different. And I thought that was just my mind catching up. And then you’d, you’d do something like dance with me, and I knew it was just a power move, and then suddenly it _wasn’t_. I’d stop paying attention for just a moment and suddenly I’d find myself thinking how happy you made me or how well the suit fit you or how appealing your lips looked and—’ Adora realises she’s blushing, and she’s crying too, quiet, necessary tears, and she swallows and continues: ‘I think Shadow Weaver thought that taking my memories would get rid of the feelings. But it didn’t. It just made me lose track of where they were coming from. I didn’t understand _why_ I was feeling what I was feeling, so I ignored it. And I’m sorry, Catra, I’m so sorry.’

Quite abruptly their roles are reversed, and it’s Catra holding her close, letting Adora hide her face in her hair. ‘It’s not your fault.’

‘She tried to make you expendable,’ Adora says, voice muffled. ‘To make sure you were devoted to me—’

‘ _Devoted?_ ’ Catra says, but Adora is pretty sure the outrage in her voice is feigned.

‘All right, _invested_ in me. More invested than I was in you. And I could have done more about that. I never questioned her favouritism. I’m sorry.’

‘You really could have,’ Catra says, but there’s less venom in her voice than there has been, and she’s careful in the way she pushes Adora away from her again. ‘You think she knew about the sword? That’s why she was obsessed with you?’

‘Maybe. Probably, even.’

Catra snorts. ‘Joke’s on her, huh?’

‘Yeah,’ Adora whispers, ‘it is. She tried to drive us apart, and here we are. But you know what? We never got to be ourselves, together, on our own terms. She didn’t let us.’

She doesn’t dare say more. The implication lingers. Adora’s heart beats faster and she fancies she can hear it in the utter silence between them.

Then Catra says, ‘And you think we can do that here.’

There’s nothing for it now but to play her cards. ‘I do.’

‘Shadow Weaver’s gone, you know.’

‘Do you really think Hordak isn’t capable of doing exactly what she did? Or worse? Nowhere’s perfect, Catra, but you can take my word for it that no one in Bright Moon is going to mess with your memories.’

Catra is silent for so long, Adora isn’t sure whether to hope or not. ‘I can’t abandon the others,’ she says eventually. ‘Scorpia, Entrapta—’

‘I’m not asking you to,’ Adora says, rushing through her words before she loses Catra entirely. ‘Listen. Spend the night. Tomorrow we can talk to Glimmer and Bow. See if we can work something out. And then, if you still want to leave, I swear I won’t try and make you stay.’

‘You can’t make that promise for your friends.’

‘I can promise to physically restrain them while you climb out that window, if I have to.’

Catra’s laugh comes out oddly truncated, as if she isn’t sure whether laughter is appropriate yet. ‘How will that help when one of them can teleport?’

‘Good thing it won’t come to that, then.’

‘You’re actually serious, aren’t you?’

‘I am.’

Catra hugs herself and suddenly looks so small, so vulnerable, that Adora aches to wrap her up, to kiss her, to stroke reassurance into the tense frame of her body—

‘Swear to me,’ Catra says quietly, ‘that everything you said is true. About your memories. About—about how you feel. _Swear to me,_ ’ she repeats, more vehement, ‘that you’re not going to leave me behind again.’

Adora looks for the sincerity inside herself. It’s not difficult. She finds it in the memories of nights spent curled up and alone, the comfort of Bright Moon too vast to fill the empty space beside her; she finds it in the moonlight falling across Catra’s face, setting already-bright eyes alight with their own sincerity. ‘I swear.’

‘There’s a dozen reasons this is a bad idea,’ Catra says. ‘A dozen arguments I should be making.’

‘Forget what you _should_ be saying,’ Adora says, and she’s so close, she can tell, to knocking down the last bricks in the wall Catra has built between them—‘What do you _want_ to say?’

‘I want to say…’ Catra grimaces, swallows, glances at her feet. ‘This is hard.’

Adora reaches out, fingers brushing past Catra’s face, down her side, coming to a rest at her lower back. The invitation is obvious, and after a second, Catra steps into the embrace, her hands on Adora’s hips. ‘It is hard,’ Adora says, pressing her forehead against Catra’s. Their bodies are aligned like fingers on the brink of interlacing. ‘But we have to try. I’ll never forgive myself if we don’t try.’

What Catra says next is the most important thing she’ll say all evening. Adora has spent months giving ground: understanding why Catra has done what she’s done, justifying it, _forgiving_ it, admitting where her own actions have been lacking. It’s taken a toll. Relationships require balance, and theirs has been unbalanced in ways Adora hasn’t even consciously thought about. It’s not enough for just _one_ partner to give.

What Catra says is, ‘You’re right.’

Adora’s heart beats wildly. She holds her breath. Three seconds pass.

‘What I _want_ to say,’ Catra goes on, and her words are firm, certain, ‘is: I love you too. And you’re _right_. I have no idea how that’s going to work. I think you’re being optimistic about how your friends will react. I think you’re being optimistic about damn near everything. But none of that matters unless we try first. So.’

Adora breathes. ‘So you’ll stay?’

‘I’ll stay.’

Something inside Adora gives way. She smiles, and then she smiles wider, and when that’s not quite enough she laughs, and her arms tighten around Catra hard enough that Catra lets out a squeak, but then she’s returning the hug and before Adora really knows what she’s doing she’s picked Catra up, twirled her around three times, and deposited them both back on the bed.

It takes her a minute to catch her breath. She’s lying on her back, Catra propped up on one elbow, looking down at her.

‘We’ll have to talk about that,’ Catra says. ‘You can’t just carry me around whenever you want. It’s undignified.’

‘You being a paragon of dignity.’

‘Of course.’

‘Is that why you’re purring again?’

Catra leans in and caresses Adora’s face with one hand. ‘That’s _exactly_ why I’m purring again,’ she whispers.

Adora shivers at the touch. ‘I might not know exactly how I feel about you,’ she says slowly, ‘but I know one thing.’

There’s an odd hesitation to the way Catra looks at her, as if she’s making _absolutely_ sure she understands what Adora is implying. ‘Yeah?’

Was it any wonder Catra was making her say it? ‘I want you to kiss me again.’

Adora has only a split second to feel embarrassed by the heat suffusing her cheeks. Then Catra is on top of her, and her hands find themselves tangled in Catra’s hair even without her thinking about it. She has a brief moment to appreciate Catra’s expression—and when was the last time she’d seen something as straightforward as joy on her face?—and then Catra is kissing her and it’s so _different_ , already, than their first (second?) kiss. It’s not gentle. It’s deep and heated and a little clumsy, but it’s not _rough_ either. It's like letting go, forgetting who they’re meant to be and being who they are instead.

That thought consolidates in Adora's mind as they pull apart. She’s breathless and she thinks she might be crying. Catra confirms it by wiping a tear away with her thumb, wordless, and Adora returns the gesture: Catra’s cheeks are dry but there's colour rising in them, and it feels so freeing that they can be embarrassed by as simple a thing as the desire to kiss each other.

Adora has spent too long with two versions of Catra living inside her. There was the Catra before, whom she'd known and loved and only dared kiss in the gentlest of ways, for fear that anything more might transform her into the Catra after, the one who’d been harsh and angry, the one Adora had tried so hard to hate. Now the two are finally overlapping again, inhabiting the single, flawed girl in her arms. The Catra who let her fall in the temple is the same Catra who _didn't_ let her fall half a dozen other times; the Catra who led the attack on Bright Moon is the same Catra who's holding her now, who's licking away her tears in playful kitty kisses.

They’re not easy facts to reconcile. But they pale in comparison to the fact that, for the first night in half a lifetime, Adora will fall asleep with her face buried in the slightly prickly mane of her best friend’s hair.

In that moment, everything else is secondary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, okay, hear me out:
> 
> 1\. Catra's name ends in -ra.  
> 2\. At one point she explicitly says, oh, I bet the sword wouldn't work for me, and what's that if not foreshadowing?  
> 3\. If I'm right we get to call her Cat-Ra.
> 
> Joking aside, I do think this would be an interesting twist! I'm not sure I'm willing to actually predict it's right, but I think it would be a nice way of resolving Catra's jealousy of Adora. (Especially if done in an interesting way—without caring too much about, you know, the lore, I've tried to imply here that the transformation is personal. It emphasises traits Catra already possesses. It would be boring to say "oh, Catra can have exactly the same powers as Adora, now she doesn't have to be jealous", but I think something like this could work!)
> 
> The memory loss, on the other hand, I _am_ willing to commit to. I think it makes so much sense. It's obvious that Catra takes Adora's betrayal way more personally than Adora expects, and this is a neat explanation. It also serves the purpose of being a really major twist, something major enough to excuse Catra's actions (or at least, excuse them enough that a more conventional redemption arc can take care of the rest).
> 
> I'll stop rambling now! Hopefully what I've done here justifies itself - I'd love to hear what y'all thought, and tune in next time for an epilogue starring Bow and Glimmer!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Glimmer and Bow make a discovery.

Bow is halfway down the corridor when Glimmer's voice reaches him, high and urgent: 'Bow. Sanity check.'

He jogs the rest of the distance to where she’s standing. 'What?'

'Tell me I’m not dreaming,' she says, nodding in the direction of Adora’s open door, and he steps around the doorframe for a closer look.

Bow lets the scene sink in for ten long seconds. 'Huh,' he says eventually. 'Didn't take her for the little spoon.’

‘We should get the guards,’ Glimmer ventures.

‘I think Adora would have done that already, if she thought she needed to.’

‘But it’s _her_.’

‘I know who it is. Do we trust Adora?’

‘Of course we trust Adora.’

Bow shrugs. ‘Then we should talk to them.’

‘Ugh.’ Glimmer closes her eyes. ‘I don’t want to talk to her. I want to punch her. I mean, you’re right,’ she adds, warding off Bow’s disapproving look. ‘I’m just saying.’ She sighs. ‘Are you ready for the most uncomfortable conversation you’re ever going to have?’

‘Second-most.’

‘What?’

Bow grins. ‘The most uncomfortable will be explaining this to your mother.’

‘You’re assuming we’re going to _tell_ my mother.’

‘Why wouldn’t we?’

‘I don’t know, because we like Adora and would prefer she doesn’t get in trouble for consorting with the enemy?’

‘ _Snuggling_ with the enemy,’ Bow corrects. ‘I bet the law says nothing about that.’ He pauses. ‘Are we going to wake them up, or… ?’

‘Oh, you _bet_ we’re going to wake them up,’ Glimmer mutters, but she doesn’t move.

Bow pats her on the shoulder. ‘It’ll be okay. We love Adora, right? Even if, present company excluded, she has questionable taste in friends. Let’s work this out for her sake.’

‘Right,’ Glimmer says. ‘You’re right. Best friend squad.’

‘Besides, it might go better than you expect. Bit of optimism never hurts, right?’

‘I can be optimistic!’ Glimmer perks up. ‘Maybe she’s here to surrender.’

‘Won’t know until you ask. C’mon. I got your back. And we got Adora’s back.’

‘And Adora has _her_ back,’ Glimmer says darkly. ‘ _Literally_.’

‘You know, if you’re jealous, I’m pretty sure Adora would spoon you if you asked.’

She bites her lip. ‘You think so?’

Bow laughs. ‘Yes, I think so.’ He takes Glimmer’s hand and nudges her over the threshold into Adora’s room. ‘You ready? Who knows! Maybe this is the beginning of the end of the war.’

He can tell Glimmer doesn’t believe him, but that’s okay. She’s always been the sceptical one. The one who thought about things. Bow is the optimist, and he’s the first to admit that sometimes that means _over_ -optimist. But optimism is never a bad thing, even in those cases when Glimmer ends up being right.

He’s pretty sure she’s wrong this time, though. He has a good feeling. As they approach the bed where Adora and Catra lie curled up against each other, it’s difficult to see them as anything but two young women finding a moment of calm. _Sleep is the great leveller_ , he thinks.

When they’re two paces away, Catra’s eyes flicker open.

There’s a moment when all three of them freeze. Bow glances from Glimmer to Catra, trying to work out if he needs to get between them.

Then Catra exhales. It’s a little sound, not violent but accepting. She extricates herself from under Adora’s arm, pulls the bedcover back up, and perches on the edge of the bed. Adora makes a noise in her sleep and rolls over, and Bow is sure he doesn’t imagine the flash of a smile that crosses Catra’s face.

‘All right,’ Catra says quietly. ‘Let’s talk.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading! The response to this has been really humbling. I'm so glad y'all liked it.
> 
> I try not to predict what I'll write next - it rarely goes well - but although I didn't have any further plans for She-Ra fic, the reception in this fandom has been so warm and welcoming that I'd be surprised if I didn't come back to it. :) (Let's test the waters - how do you guys feel about regency romance? Fun? Not fun? Would you prefer canon stuff? Let me know! You never know what'll spark the next flash of inspiration.)
> 
> Until then, farewell, and thank you one last time for reading and commenting!


End file.
